When We Wake
by Sophiethepegasus
Summary: When Eponine Thenardier is brought back from the dead two centuries after the barricade, Eponine is thankful when they embark on an adventure to discover a new island off the coast of Europe, looking exactly like France. But when the ship is wrecked, Eponine finds herself in a replica of the world she comes from.But her world's troubles aren't finished. Can she be happy again? E/E
1. I'm Waking Up

_Rated K+ JUST IN CASE. May raise, depending on the turn of events._

_I am not Victor Hugo, by the way, so this isn't mind. :( _

_Prologue_

The 15th of March 2014 was a peculiar day. A forty-something gent by the name of Francis Francisson was embarking on the biggest experiment in the century (or so the press claimed). They were going to bring someone back from the dead. Having had influence of his friend, Bishop Myriel, who had read Frankenstein many times over, given his friend the peace of mind by having two French Soldiers standing at the door, with guns to destroy any… malfunctions.

Francis was using the body of a girl. She had died over two hundred years ago in the June Rebellion of France. The girl was skinny and pale. Her lips were pursed, and she looked as though she had a constant smile. She was beautiful in death. She'd be even more beautiful in life. Pulling on some white gloves, Francis began the operation. Within an hour he was done. The button in his hand felt like it was burning through his skin. He closed his eyes and pressed the pulsing red button. For a few minutes there was silence. Francis stared at the girl and felt his heart drop in disappointment.

And then the girl's eyelashes flickered. Francis stepped forward and held her wrist, his thumb against the artery. Her eyes flashed open and she gasped. He could hear the soldiers jump. The girl coughed. "Where am I?" she asked. "Marius? Marius! Did you kill Marius?"

Francis smiled solemnly. "Are you asking for a fellow revolutionary? They're all dead. None of them survived."

The girl started breathing faster. And then she started crying. Francis had no idea what to do when women started crying. He looked around him uncertainly and muttered. "Shhh. Shhh! You're alive."

"But _where am I?"_

"You're alive, Mademoiselle. It's 200 years after you died."

The girl appeared to process the information. "I'm over 200 years old? And Monsieur, you didn't answer my question. Where am I?"

"You're in the France Science University. You were the only body that didn't disappear, so we decided to choose… you… to bring back to life."

"So I'm your guinea pig. I've had enough experience with that."

"Mademoiselle, may I ask your name?"

"Eponine Jondrette. Well, my real last name's Thenardier but don't go around telling the washerwomen, okay."

Francis chuckled. "I am Francis Francisson."

"Original," Eponine muttered under her breath. Francis felt his face growing hot.

"Please listen to me, Eponine. I brought you back to life. It is only fair if you co-operate."

"Fine," Eponine groaned.

Eponine responded to most questions he fired at her, but every now and again, she'd pause, as if thinking. Francis didn't pursue these questions now. They might be uncomfortable for the girl, he thought. He was right, actually. Eponine did lie. But most lies hold a spark of truth. And some things were painful to answer in earnest. When Francis asked the poor girl how she died, she'd thought and said, "I was brash and I ran onto the Barricade silently, using my years of training, and started filing through bullets. They saw me. I slipped up. I died."

And Francis gave her a small break after that question. Eponine thought on her answer and felt tears rising through her. No. That was how Gavroche had died. Her brother. And in that break she thought through everything that had happened. And then she faced it. Everyone was dead. Marius was dead, Cosette was dead, Azelma was dead. Everyone. Every barricade had been knocked over, like a father pretending to be a monster and knocking down the castle to search for his giggling daughter. The soldier toys had fallen from the turrets. Eponine sighed because she knew that they had all been playing make-believe.

_Chapter 1_

_I'm Waking Up_

Eponine soon got used to the ways of life in the twenty-first century. Extraordinarily fast, actually. Francis had taken her on as a daughter, as well as his biological daughter, Esperanza Francisdotter, although she made everyone call her Honore. Francis' mother had died when Honore was four, so the girl didn't have much recalling of her mother.

Honore was about half a year older than Eponine. She was incredibly pretty. She had russet-coloured hair, a petite nose, and large blue eyes. She was adorned in beautiful dresses, ranging from Eponine's time period to now. Honore's innocent presence was a constant reminder of a girl Eponine had once known, called Cosette. Cosette Fauchelevent. Eponine's parents had owned an inn until Eponine was eight. When Eponine was two, a beautiful woman with golden hair and perfect teeth had put a little girl called Cosette in their care. She became their maid, and Eponine and Azelma's scapegoat. But one day a man in yellow came to the inn and told them that Cosette's mother had died. He took Cosette away after giving Eponine's parents, the ruthless Thenardiers, 1500 francs. Eponine hadn't thought she'd see that face ever again.

Eponine had moved to the streets of Paris, and she was treated brutally and ruthlessly, by her father and the infamous street-gang _Patron-Minnette. _Eponine had met a boy called Marius Pontmercy. She fell in love with him, although Eponine thought it might've been because he was the only one caring to show her kindness. She thought he loved her back. But she was proven wrong when he fell in love with the ex-drudgery maid. Somehow, the small girl had popped back into Eponine's life. This time they had switched places though. She was the one with the bruises and scars, and Cosette was the one with the silver spoon.

Upon this uncomfortable memory, Eponine spent as much time as possible avoiding her 'sister'. Even so, Eponine still harnessed knowledge of her surroundings. She became quite good at reading, and soon, she could be considered semi-literate.

But in the darkness of night, Eponine dreamed of a world of Marius and Cosette, the Barricade, and the fears of her life. Eponine couldn't find any ways to distract herself. And then relief came. It came in the form of a telegram to her 'father' from Bishop Myriel. Apparently, a new island had been discovered on the edge of Europe, using the new technology. Bishop Myriel had fought for the poor, and so he had been offered a chance to officially discover the new piece of land as a reward for his efforts. They'd hired a Captain, Captain Le Blanc.

The night before they left for discovery, Eponine had made Francis promise to take her with him. He'd expected Honore to stay home and away from danger. But that night, propped up in bed, Eponine overheard Honore and Francis.

"Father, I'd like you to take me with you."

"Honore, you cannot go if you don't get your hands dirty."

"And _she _does?"

"She's endured a lot of heartbreak."

"Father, I don't care about work, just take me with you. Please?"

Eponine groaned in disapproval as she heard Francis give in. When dawn came, Eponine was already up. She brushed her hair and teeth, had a shower, and got dressed. She would've forgotten breakfast if she hadn't been reminded.

Eponine had settled for the clothes she'd worn when she came to live with Francis and his daughter. They were a top and trousers, brown and tattered, but dear to her heart. They were the only thing left of her. Eponine soon found her place on board the great _La Dame Espoir_. And that was the place of a scullery maid. Again. Francis had fought for her, displaying how he couldn't bare the thought of his daughter being forced to scrub. After a while, they raised her a little higher to that of a cook. There was one terrible thing about that and that was that she was horrible at cooking. Her beef jerky came out too stringy. Her smoked salmon was charred to the point of inedible. Eponine couldn't wait until their arrival at the island.

It was on the 16th of June, one day after her one month anniversary, that they soon saw land. Mist crowded their view, and dark shapes leered at Eponine as she stared out the window, bored out of her mind. She watched the water as the boat turned. She sat there and a small, serene smile trailed up her face. And then there was the sound of cracking, splintering wood. Eponine covered her ears and screamed. She got to her feet and ran to the door, turned the handle, and yanked open the door. She ran up the steps, and to the railing. Gripping the cold metal, and the wind freezing her cheeks, she looked downwards.

Eponine ran for her life, back up the steps. There she saw Francis, his eyes flashing in the light. She ran towards him before digging in her heels. His fingers gripped her wrist to keep her from falling (and no doubt slipping through the railing). Honore was already in the boat, hugging her form. Eponine got into the boat and as she did, her foot slipped. Her head whipped up. Eponine's voice was a whisper. "Where's the Bishop?" she asked.

"The Bishop is staying with Le Blanc," Francis muttered. It was so obvious how it hurt him. But he would not argue with his dear friend. The bishop was sixty-four, but he had the heart of a thirty-year-old. He had been Francis' friend for ten years. Francis got into the boat and sat there, staring absently. There was the sound of footsteps on-deck. They looked up at Bishop Myriel, his kind eyes displaying sorrow. "I'm so sorry, old friend," he grinned, "Someone's got to cut the ropes."

"You can cut them from down here, though," Eponine said.

The Bishop shook his head. "God will be happy with me, 'Ponine."

From his pocket, he drew a pocket-knife. Smiling, he dragged the knife across the ropes, back and forth, back and forth. They released, and Eponine felt herself falling, and then the boat slammed into the water. Water sprayed her cheeks and neck. Grabbing the oars, Francis started rowing towards the land. "Good luck, my dear friends!" called the Bishop. Francis used his total strength, which was remarkably strong, in his case. After about two hours worth of exertion, they reached the shore. Eponine got to her feet. The sand was mushy beneath her heels. Her dark hair blew across her face. The forest looked cleared. She turned and faced Francis. "Come on," she whispered, her brown eyes flicked between Honore and Honore's father. Eponine turned, and there was a feeling of home. She started running. She passed the trees. It was a replica of France. Her France. And then, _she knew where to go. _Soon she could hear the sound of Honore and Francis behind her. Soon there was a wide expanse of green. There was a strange sound. Francis dragged Honore behind a bush. And then there was a chestnut horse, with a man seated atop the carriage. Wait- _a man! _Eponine coughed.

"Oh my goodness," she muttered. The man turned his head and smiled.

"Hello, young lady, have you walked far?"

"No, um, the beach is that way. I'm new."

The man's eyes widened. "New. Well that's new. Are you alone?"

Francis pulled Honore out from his cover.

"My name's Eponine. Eponine Jondrette." She swore she saw him shiver. "If it's okay, do you know where there is a way to go to Paris?"

_Not Paris, Eponine._

"Ah, yes, take a ride on my carriage. You're one under the limit. No charge, since you're new and all." He winked and the three heaved themselves into the carriage. "Be warned, it'll be bumpy."

**Note: Eponine is supposed to look like whatever you want, despite her being Samantha Barks in my mind.**

**Note 2: I'm sooo sorry that you haven't had much work from me, so to make it up to you would you like me to get right to work on the second chapter? I'm loving this story already even though I'm not giving up on At The End Of The Day. I hope it stays like that, because I don't want to disappoint people. I love you all. **


	2. You Never Will Be Mine

**Disclaimer: Les Miserables is not mine, I am only responsible for the story line. Also, the chapter titles are from songs. The first one was from Radioactive- Imagine Dragons, this one is Be Mine-Ellie Goulding ft. Erik Hassle. Enjoy :)**

_Chapter 2_

_You Never Will Be Mine_

Most girls dreamed of satin and silk and roses and boys. Eponine wasn't like that. And there was only one boy and that was Marius. She didn't know if he'd survived the barricades. She prayed for him. Eponine's eyes opened and she didn't know they'd been closed. The rays of the sun started to creep over land. Any closer to Paris and they'd be grey, but where they were, they were bright orange, reflecting on the clouds. Eponine's breath caught in her throat. A hand that death had healed clutched the place over her heart. Her dark hair flew in the wind. A smile curled the ends of her mouth upwards. "This is my France," she muttered.

Suddenly the carriage jolted to a stop. The man was consorting with another, gathering the information of the passengers no doubt. Eponine reached over and gripped Honore's shoulder. Honore jolted, and her eyes opened in shock. "We're here," Eponine said.

"How do you know?"

"I lived in Paris for most of my life. I know where we are."

"But we're not in France." Eponine cocked head and smirked.

"Oh really?"

Soon the carriage was inside Paris. It jolted and Eponine looked around in wonder. Childish voices echoed in her ears. Then there was a particular voice that caught her ears. She turned around and saw a pack of children following the carriage like ducklings. A boy led them. He looked about eleven or twelve, his hair was ash-blonde. His lips were in a smile, as though he couldn't do anything else with his emotions. But Eponine knew that boy more than anyone. "Stop," she told the driver. He applied pressure to the bit and the grey horse slowed to a stop. "Thank you. I know my way around from here." Eponine jumped out of the carriage and was followed by Honore and Francis. The little boy looked at them in puzzlement for a moment.

"Gavroche!" Eponine grinned, and ran towards him.

"'Ponine!" he repeated gleefully. Eponine grabbed the little boy and spun him around and then wrapped her arms around him.

"Eponine?" Francis asked.

"How do you know my sister?" Gavroche asked, staring up at Francis and Honore.

"Oh!" he gasped. "You're the girl that Marius used to blabber on about years ago." Eponine winced in pain.

"No. This is Honore. Not Cosette." Eponine turned her head and filled her eyes with every inch of her 'sister.' He was slightly right. She was exactly like Marius' beloved. Her eyes were every inch as blue; her face was just as kind. Honore's hair was pale blonde, sweeping down her back in elegant ringlets. Eponine subconsciously grabbed her own hair and looked down at it. It's dark brown curve. No matter how hard they'd tried, they couldn't get the knots out of her hair.

Eponine stood beside Gavroche. "This is my brother, Gavroche. I don't know how he got here, little rascal. Now, Gav, is Marius here?"

"I knew you'd ask that, 'Ponine. Yep, he is. But I can't lead you to him. Bit sad since Cosette died, but that was years ago." Eponine bowed her head in mourning. The last thing she wanted was her Marius to be sad. And she was truly a bit sad for Cosette. "Why were you his messenger girl to Cosette?"

"You know I just want him to be happy. Now I'll see you around, Gavroche." The little boy ran off into the shadows. There was a sound of a car engine. Eponine whipped her head to the side. A black car, older than most people had in the Twenty-first century. But were they _in _the twenty-first century. Eponine's habits were still gripping her, carrying her into the shadows, sprinting to the corner. She turned her head. "Go on your own for a while, explore. I'm going to find someone."

"How do you know they're here?"

"Trust me. I know every inch of these streets."

And she disappeared into Paris, as if they were waters, moving to swallow her small body. Eponine ran, as if it were still that fateful night in June. She stopped for a minute, and faced the Café Musain. Eponine's rough hands gripped the doorknob and opened it, entering the Café. A woman with thick black hair with streaks of grey smiled at her. "Hello, darling."

"I was wondering if a Marius Pontmercy had been here recently."

"Yes, but the meetings are over. I haven't seen you around, lovely."

"But… France is free, isn't it?"

"Yes, lovely. Well, nearly."

But Eponine was already running through Paris. Dark shadows haunted her vision. The shadows of the past. Eponine desperately hoped that her parents weren't anywhere. Eponine, after a while, found her way back to Honore and Francis. "I couldn't find him." She prayed he wouldn't see Honore with her. But god never answered her prayers.

She looked up and saw him standing there, his eyes on Honore's frame. "C-Cosette?" he asked.

"No. Honore," Eponine spoke over the girl with the blonde hair and blue eyes.

The way Marius didn't even register her voice was like an ice-cold grip squeezing her intestines together. Eponine could feel her stomach curling in pain. Tears were welling in her throat. "Marius, it's me, 'Ponine!" she cried, throwing her arms out to the side. A guttural noise escaped her lips. "You haven't seen me in 200 years, why can't you see me?"

Marius whipped his head around, and his eyes widened to saucers. "'Ponine," he muttered. His mind was trying desperately to keep up. "'Ponine, I can see you. Everyone can see you."

"But you didn't before." Eponine said, and her dark locks tumbled over her eyes.

Marius thought, and he remembered. He remembered the moment before she fell, her eyes closing like flowers. _You know, Monsieur? I think I was a little in love with you. _

Marius' face turned pale with guilt. "Eponine, don't."

"I won't," Eponine smirked. Marius then walked right across the road. He held out his hand to Honore. "Mademoiselle, I am Marius Pontmercy."

Honore giggled and it made bile rise up in Eponine's throat. She was reliving the most painful day of her life. The girl clenched her fists, and whirled around, running through the streets that she remembered so well. Her dark waves whipped around her head like a halo. _How could he be so __**cruel**__? He knows how much I love him._ It was raining and she didn't know if it was the raindrops or tears that stained her cheeks. Eponine refused to let sobs escape her lips. She wiped the rain out of her eyes… and went barrelling into the stomach of a man. She fell backwards. "I'm so sorry," she muttered. She let her eyes look him up and down for recollection. His blonde curls were darkened by the storm clouds, and shadows crowded his porcelain face. Eponine stumbled to her feet.

"It's okay, Mademoiselle," he said.

Piercing blue eyes watched her, and between them was a perfect nose, and underneath was a perfect mouth. Eponine shook her head mentally. _You idiot, 'Ponine. You're not supposed to look at people that way. _

"I'm Eponine," she said, her dark brown eyes charcoal in the poor light.

"I'm Enjolras. You- I haven't seen you in a long time."

Eponine jumped slightly. "I died. What is there to say?"

Eponine gritted her teeth and looked away. "I'm also kind of new here. Kind of, because I remember every street."

Enjolras found himself struggling not to smile. "You're Marius' shadow."

Eponine froze. Her eyes were darker, and her fingernails bore so deep into her palm that blood rose to the surface. "You. You little ass," she said, her voice catching. "You freaking ass. Yes, I'm Marius' shadow, but hell, I haven't seen him, or anyone, in over two hundred years and that's the best you've got to say to me. Ugh. You men think you can get away with anything."

Her hand covered her face. "You fight for freedom and then go persecuting girls about the people they love." Her words dropped off and she realised what she'd just said.

Her eyes opened and surprise at herself was evident. Her eyebrows arched higher above her eyelids.

Enjolras allowed himself to look at her. Her dark brown hair flowed down her back in waves, a few knots. Her eyes were almond-shaped, her cheekbones high. She had a rather triangular jawbone and her lips were slim in length, but shaped. Her eyebrows were slightly thick but not overly so. God, what was he doing?

Eponine snapped. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen you in two hundred years so allow me to be curious about how you look."

Enjolras had a shorter than average temper but he managed to use it to fuel his speeches. Not many people saw his temper, but when it was targeted at you, you better pray for mercy. Of course, Eponine knew this.

"And it's not like you weren't looking at me."

Eponine blushed, and her cheeks turned a shade of crimson. She placed her fists on her hips and poked out her tongue at him. She whirled around and disappeared once again into the shadows of Paris. Enjolras couldn't help watching as the girl faded away like she was melting. She was peculiar indeed, Enjolras thought.


	3. Calling In The Dead Of Night

_Chapter 3_

_Calling In The Dead Of Night_

Eponine groaned as she remembered the infuriating leader of the Amis. He couldn't be decent after two hundred years of her absence. Her ship had just been shipwrecked, two people had died, he could at least _try _to be a _genuine _human being. She balled her fists and her thoughts went back to Marius. _Round and round and back where you began. _The look of adoration and love on his freckled face. She still felt such ancient pain that she wished would just leave her body. They were staying at an inn in the middle of Paris and her bed was still uncomfortable, though preferable to the basement floors that she slept on for years. The dark night air blew through the cracks in the window. Eponine pulled her covers around her and tried to keep warm. After a few minutes of horrible coldness Eponine got of bed and slipped on one of Honore's dresses. It was too big and it ended at the midway point in her legs.

"Eponine?" she heard Francis say.

"Yeah," she muttered, her Parisian drawl still prominent after years of no use.

"Are you cold?"

"No," she lied. "I'm used to this."

She inhaled the scent of rain on the horizon.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Aren't you supposed to rot after you die?" she asked, looking at him quizzically.

"A few months before I… revived you, we pumped a chemical into you which replaced your flesh."

"Interesting. I'm going out."

Eponine grabbed a coat and slipped out of the inn before he could stop her. The scent of rain was even heavier now that she was outside. The few lights that remained reflected on the pavement, misty. She hugged the coat closer to her body. The cold bit into her arms and legs and face but she did nothing to stop it. It reminded her of the night when she went to Marius on the barricade, when her body fell like a marionette with cut strings.

The rocks bit into her feet, but they were tough from years of living on the street. A cough rasped in her throat but she wasn't sick. She knew how to look after herself. She felt no pain. Everything was numb, her body, her feet, her face. Eponine's coat was flimsy, the one she'd had on her body the day she died. Eponine wasn't sure if she was reliving it somehow, reminding her that she should be grateful for her life.

Eponine knew where she was headed. She avoided the alleys but stayed in the darkness, away from the light. There was a row of houses built on the banks of the Seine, not too far from where she was now. The lights were just bright enough so she could see their reflection in the dark waters. The sound of thunder ripped through the air and she jumped. Growling she turned her head. "Shut up," she rasped and turned back to the Seine. She sat down against the grass. Her bare feet drew pictures in the mud. A flash of light ripped apart the inky heavens, spewing its contents across the ground. Eponine watched as droplets started to make rings in the waters. The darkness shadowed her face, making her features sharper and more powerful. Cold seared through her body as raindrops splattered on her skin. They increased in number until they were tiny pinpricks all over her body. The thunder roared again and she shivered, gripping her arms tightly to fight against the cold. She didn't want to go back to the inn. It reminded her too much of her old inn in Montfermeil. After that period ended, her life had fallen totally and utterly apart.

The breeze of the wind on her face made her bend over to hide from the rein. Her teeth chattered but it felt nice, as though it was reminding her that she was _alive. _Eponine looked at her fingers and saw that they were dark from the mud. The water raced down her ringlets and dripping off the edge, onto her legs.

"Aren't you cold," asked a voice behind her.

"What're y-you doing out here?" she stammered.

"I was on my way home, and the rain started. It hasn't been that long."

"It's really late."

"I know, and why are you here?"

Eponine turned her head, and a flash of light lit up the man's golden curls. Eponine shrugged. "I don't like the inn we're staying at."

"You're staying in an inn?" he asked, his eyebrows raising.

"Yes, Francis is certainly rich enough, with Honore's perfect clothes." Eponine's sarcasm ended with a bout of coughs. "Far out, if I get sick, what am I supposed to do?" she asked.

She swore she could see a smile on his perfectly sculpted face, but she pushed the notion away. This _was _the man made of marble, after all. Enjolras undid his jacket. Eponine followed his gaze to her soaking wet, flannel thing, and shook her head. "I don't need your pity, Monsieur."

"Yes you do," Enjolras said, putting the jacket around her shoulders.

Eponine leaned into him, trying to share some body heat, and Enjolras didn't flinch. Eponine felt a pang of surprise that he had lent a jacket to a street-urchin. Then again, this was Enjolras, leader of the rebellion.

They were close enough so that they could feel each other's heat. They watched as the rain fell about them, watering the flowers.


	4. Your Dreams And Memories

Note: I'm so sorry for my absence, Mon amis (;_; feelings), but I've been busy ageing up. And I've been working on a new series though I'm doing this and At The End Of The Day as well. And also my one-shot _Maybe Next Time. _The chapter title is from the song Sleepsong. This is a filler chapter, by the way. Thanks for the reviews. :)

_Chapter 4_

_Your Dreams and Memories _

Eponine felt ironically warm by the time she got home, and she didn't even care that it looked like her parents' inn, or the fact that a bunch of brawly men were having a bar fight in the top floor of the tavern next door. Eponine was merely _puzzled. _How could a man be so startlingly arrogant and cold one minute and the next be generous and _boiling hot _the next? Eponine could still feel his warmth. She looked to where Francis was sleeping and gave a satisfied smirk when his snores were sounding. Now he wouldn't ask where she'd gotten her jacket. She walked up the stairs and stopped before a mirror. Her hair was curly and wet. She'd have to towel dry it if she didn't want to catch cold. So the girl went to the bathroom and dried her hair.

That night she had the first dream she could remember in two hundred years. Not surprisingly, starring Marius Pontmercy.

He was there, touching her, smiling at her, holding her like always. But Eponine didn't feel the rush of love and enjoyment she usually felt. And then the strangest thing that'd ever happened in a dream happened. His face started to crumble. Eponine backed away in fear, but he chuckled. His voice had started to change. "This stupid mask," he mused, as the face crumpled to the earth and was replaced by a face that had been touched by the hand of Zeuss. His golden curls were soaking wet and dripped over his face. The land was white as snow. But then he turned and frowned.

_"I've got to go, Eponine," he whispered. _

_"No," said a voice she recognized as her own. She didn't want the stranger to leave. She didn't love him; she just didn't want to be alone in this strange land of white. Not to mention Marius and Cosette. Then she watched as wood started to bind together. She screamed when she saw the soldiers running up the stairs. Eponine squeezed to the back and tipped her head up._

_"Go."_

_"Never."_

_Eponine stared at the chamber of the rifles. It was icily silent, and she didn't speak. Nor did Enjolras. She stepped closer to the golden-haired man- no, he was a boy. He was nothing more than a boy. He looked like an avenging angel, staring them down. Eponine would be like him. She would not run, she would not falter. She would not die in vain. Then Grantaire appeared in the back of the room. His eyes were sunken in and his face was crowded by shadows. Eponine didn't hear what he said, or even if he said anything, but he stood by her side. _

_"Fire!"_

_The bullets pierced through her and the pain was magnified a thousand times by the bullet that had made her die in Marius' arms. Marius, a boy who was blind, and had eyes for a petty bourgeois. Eponine's body slammed against the ground and before her she saw the limp body of Courfeyrac. She wanted to cry, it hurt so much, but it hurt so much that she couldn't. Eponine curled around the wound, and spared it a look. The blood expanded over her shirt, the red replacing the dirt. Eponine opened her mouth and screamed as the white started to ebb at the edges of her vision. Eponine's dark hair escaped from the cap on her head and ran across her face. She reached up despite the excruciating magnification of her pain and touched her forehead. Blood stained her fingers. Let me die, let me die, let me die. Eponine wanted to sob, sob louder than she ever had, even before she was Jondrette. But her crying was silent, red tears trickling down her face. "Shoot me again," she moaned. The pain exploded in an expanse of blood and wood and white._

Eponine's eyes opened in surprise and fear. Her hands trembled as she reached for her shirt and pulled it up. There was a scar. A bullet shaped scar over her heart. Eponine let her fingers brush against it and gritted her teeth. Then she reached up to her cheek and felt the coolness of tears. The backs of her eyelids burned and she closed them, just to feel warm again. "Eponine?" asked a sickly-sweet voice. She opened her eyes and saw the innocent girl.

Eponine curled around her stomach. "I had a nightmare," she muttered.

"What happened?"

Eponine looked at her suspiciously but remembered that _this _Cosette would have no memory of the pain and beatings she went through at her parents' hands. So she told her everything that happened minus Marius.

Honore was a listener. She watched Eponine with her blue jay-feather eyes. Her eyes flashed in anger at first but then fell into gentleness. She sat besides Eponine and placed a slender hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Eponine. You know, the strangest thing happened when you first came home with Dad."

"What?" Eponine asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

"I looked at you and I saw- I saw an inn with a man and woman who were-were beating me. And then I saw two little children laughing at me. One looked like you. The other was called…Azelma, that's it."

Eponine jumped at the name of her sister. A rock of ice stuck in her throat. She turned her eyes downcast.

"That's terrible, Cosette-Honore." She stumbled and slapped a hand on her mouth.

"Who's Cosette?" Honore whispered.

"No one. Must've been someone I met at the market who looked like you. I don't know her."

Honore looked at her with a terrible kindness, as though she _knew. _"I'm Cosette," she whispered. "At least, that's what my mother called me before she gave me to Francis before the cancer killed her."

So, her full name was Esperanza, not Euphrasie. Eponine pulled her hands up and rested her head in them. The tears came silently. "I knew you," whispered Eponine, "That dream, it came from another life. I knew you and I hurt you. I teased you, sang _Alouette, _and Mama used to hit you for what _Azelma and I _did."

Eponine froze when she felt two arms wrap around her. "That was another life, Eponine. I think I can forgive you. You've been through worse. Hell, you were _shot._"

Eponine's tears slowed, and she wiped them away. She glanced at Honore. "I loved Marius first, you know. But he loved you more than he ever could love me. After all, I'm just a _gamine."_

Honore smiled. "I'm sorry."

Eponine was happy when she saw that the taps worked and they had hot water. She poured it into a tub and let herself soak to the bone. Eponine got out and wrapped a towel around her body. She guessed that she'd always look like the emaciated girl off the streets. She stepped into the view of the mirror. She could still count each and every rib on her body, her wrists stuck out like blades through her tanned skin.

Eponine put on some clothes, wrote a note for Francis, and walked outside again. The Seine glittered underneath the sun, a golden globe hanging in the pastel blue sky. Eponine had Enjolras' coat wrapped around her, ready to give to him. She wasn't sure if the red suited her but she found herself hoping it did.

Eventually she saw him. _He must have a million of these, _she thought, fingering the burgundy fabric. She ran towards him. He turned and grabbed her wrist. "Oh, Monsieur, there you are. I wanted to give you back your coat." She shrugged off the coat and held it out to Enjolras. Smiling, he took it and it wrapped around himself.

"Are you well, Eponine?"

She nodded. "I think so, Enjolras. I've always been good at coping with illness. Even when I was on the streets. And you?"

Enjolras nodded at her. "I don't get sick."

Eponine turned her head and stiffened. A man with dark curls, fancily dressed. She prayed it wasn't _him. _

Eponine once again faced Enjolras. "I've got to go, Monsieur. But it was good talking to you."

When Eponine had vanished into the darkness, Enjolras shook his head with a small smile.


	5. On Hold For A While :)

Disclaimer: **This story will be on hold while I get through this writer's block via shorter fics.**


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